Impressions
by desert-girl
Summary: The girl in yellow's thoughts on Ponyboy. One-shot.


Title: Impressions  
Author: Desert Girl  
Rating: G  
Summary: The girl in yellow's thoughts on Ponyboy. One-shot.  
  
Disclaimer: The Outsiders © S.E. Hinton. This story is non-profit.  
  
Notes: This story was inspired by Goddess of Sarcasm's "She Wore a Yellow Ribbon". Thank you for the amazing story and for inadvertently kicking up this plot bunny that would not go away.  


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Ponyboy Curtis sat next to me in biology, and honestly I didn't mind. Everyone thought I'd mind, but I didn't. Ponyboy was really smart, and he was always willing to lend me his notes or let me check my homework against his. I wasn't too smart in biology, but he didn't act like he thought I was dumb either. Mostly he acted like he was invisible, and I felt sorry for him being in a class full of Socs. I know they didn't like him being there, and most of them didn't feel like they had to make it a secret either. It had to get tiring, hearing the same comments day in and day out as soon as you walked into class.

I liked him. I mean, I thought we could be friends if the whole school wouldn't flip out at the idea. My best friend Katie always asked me as soon as we got out of biology, "How can you stand sitting next to that...grease?" She'd say "grease" like it was a dirty word. Spit off of her tongue as if it didn't even deserve a place in her vocabulary. Every day she asked me that, and every day I'd say the same thing. "He's not so bad."

One time, when his brother Sodapop got arrested for being a public nuisance, Katie said with the utmost seriousness, "You should ask Mr. Becker to change your seat. I bet he would understand." As if Sodapop Curtis doing handstands down the middle of Main Street put me in grave danger by sitting directly to the left of Ponyboy. I can't remember if I said anything back, probably not because I never stood up to Katie, and she said, "He's nothing but a hood."

That day, I'd looked at him real hard in class. I thought he was good-looking. He had really nice, shiny hair that was longer than most boys wore it but I think he was proud of it. He greased it up, but I imagined it probably looked nice without grease, too. He had real nice grayish-green eyes that looked like they held secrets or something. Maybe they harbored pain, or some sort of longing for something he didn't have. I didn't know, but the more I looked at his eyes, the more I'd wanted to find out. His clothes were pretty ratty and worn, and they were often not all that clean, but he smelled like soap every single morning when he came into class. Plain bar soap, like Ivory or something, but it was a nice smell. Some of the boys in our grade wore aftershave, even though I know they didn't shave yet. I wasn't too sure I liked that smell. I'd rather plain old Ivory soap any day.

If he'd noticed me staring, he didn't say anything. Ponyboy can get real lost in books and stuff, and sometimes when Mr. Becker is rattling on about the reproductive organs of the giant Alaskan crab, I see Ponyboy open a book under his desk and start reading. I stared at him while he was doing that, and I noticed every little thing about him, even how he bites his lip right before he turns the page.

I liked him even more after that day. I started trying to think of reasons to talk to him, but other than class, there wasn't anything we had in common. And you have to understand, someone like me just isn't supposed to walk up to someone like him and say, "Hey, you seen that new movie?" It just doesn't work that way. I asked for lots of help with assignments and stuff. Before class he was fine, although he just didn't like to talk much once the class filled up. After class, he was always in a hurry to get out of there and he looked around like he was nervous someone would see us talking. I figured he just didn't like Socs -- most greasers don't -- and I gave up after a while. Ponyboy didn't seem to notice. I was hurt, but I didn't know what I was thinking even talking to him in the first place anyway.

One time we were dissecting worms and Ponyboy's razor wouldn't cut. I saw him struggling with it and was just about to hand him mine when he pulled a switchblade out of his back pocket and flicked it open. I was shocked and scared. Before I could stop myself, I gasped and said, "They are right, you are a hood."

Golly, he looked embarrassed and I felt bad. Everyone had turned around and was staring at him. The boys were laughing and the girls were all wide-eyed with shock. They were scandalized on the outside, but I knew on the inside that they, especially Katie, were thrilled to see their fears validated. I could hear the rumors starting now. "Ponyboy Curtis pulled a knife in biology!"

Me, I was disappointed. I dunno, it's not that I didn't realize he was a greaser, I just thought he was different. A grease, not a hood. Someone who'd been handed rough breaks, not a delinquent who took pride in breaking the law. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe Ponyboy was like the rest. It's too bad I'd never find out for sure.

END


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